


The Tour of the Vale

by JeffBridges



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Erotic friend fiction?, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Implied Older Man/Younger Woman, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, May become more shippy as it goes on but idk yet, Not really erotic either, not really smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeffBridges/pseuds/JeffBridges
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa meets Gendry (whose rowboat ends up in the Vale) on her tour of the Vale. They become friends and bond over a certain wild northern girl they both love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tour of the Vale

**Author's Note:**

> Gendry ends up in the Vale. His rowboat ends up in Gulltown, where he finds work as a blacksmith. Sansa and Petyr are on their tour of the Vale, and Gulltown is one of their first stops. House Grafton rules Gulltown, and Lord Gerold Grafton is one of Petyr's allies in the Vale. Takes place in the show universe.

It was foggy and smelled of salt and shit. Not the rotting, putrescent smell of King's Landing though, which Sansa was grateful for. Gulltown was a small seaport compared to the capital, but at least it was livelier than the tomb-like Eyrie.

They had been there for three days, guests to Lord Grafton, who seemed to hang onto Petyr's every word. It was a small holdfast, with only Lord Grafton and his son living there, but it had immediately seemed crowded when they arrived. Everyone bustled about, trying to meet Lord Robin's every whim, all the while ignoring her.

At least she had Robin for company, who had latched onto her since the beginning of their journey, but she was starting to get antsy being stuck in the small castle's grounds without anyone to really talk to. Petyr was busy with the affairs of the Vale, and everyone else turned up their noses at the “bastard girl" whenever she entered the room.

They were finally out of the grounds today, taking Robin on a tour of Gulltown. Lord Grafton yammered to Petyr about the workings of the ports and the merchants, whilst Robin sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, his eyes tearing up at the smells of raw fish and seawater.

"I'm hungry," Robin said, tugging at Sansa's dress.

"It's only morning, sweetling," Sansa said, patting his hand. "We'll eat when we get to the tavern."

"But I want to eat NOW," Robin whined.

Sansa sighed, her nerves already fraying only an hour into their tour of the town.

"You're a lord now," she said. "These are your subjects and you should pay attention to them. They're probably hungry too but they can't eat now either."

"Why not?"

"Because they know when lunch time is."

_Because your horse eats better than his children._

Sansa remembered being stunned when Shae said those words; she had said it with the conviction of someone who had been in the same place as the man who had attacked them. Sansa still didn’t fully understand what she meant.

_I would give them bread if I had any_ , she thought, looking around at the faces of the people who shuffled past their party, backs hunched over and their faces scowling and miserable.

She wondered how Shae was. She had not thought of her handmaiden for months. Shae with her raven black hair and her sullen looks. She had been kind to her though, which was more than anyone else in King’s Landing had done for her.

_Even Petyr_ , she thought, glancing over at her guardian. He was kind to her now, keeping her safe and whispering advice in her ear, but he was no friend of her’s. Petyr noticed her glance and smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It never did.

“And this is our local smithy,” Lord Grafton said proudly, gesturing toward a ramshackle forge with smoke rising from its roof. “We’re not much in need of swords or armor, but the merchants do enjoy their trinkets.”

They paused at the smithy, while Lord Grafton and Petyr chatted with the blacksmith, perhaps commissioning Lord Robin a gift for the beginning of his lordship. Sansa perused the helmets and daggers on the shelves, though none as glamorous as the armor she saw Cersei wearing every now and then. At the end of the shelf was a brooch in the shape of a wolf. It was simply designed and made of silver, but it made her think of Winterfell. All at once, thoughts of her father, her mother, brothers, and even Arya came into her head like a flood.

She picked up the brooch when a harsh voice from behind her barked, “You shouldn’t touch that, milady.”

Sansa turned around, eyes cast to the ground. “I’m sorry, I was just curious. It’s beautiful workmanship.”

“Thanks,” grunted the man--no the boy. He was only a few years older than she, maybe 18. He had dark black hair that fell on his eyes, and the rest of him almost matched in color, he was so covered in soot and dirt. She nearly grimaced as he reached past her to straighten the brooch, brushing dirt on her dress. But then she remembered a bastard girl wouldn’t worry about those things.

“Are you looking to buy something milady?” he asked gruffly.

“No, I’m just a guest of Lord Grafton. And I’m no lady, I’m just a bastard.”

“Really?” the boy said, looking at her skeptically. “Funny, I don’t know any bastards that hang around high lords and the like.”

“My uncle’s the lord regent of the Vale,” Sansa said, annoyed. He was quite rude for a smith’s apprentice. “Thank you for your help.” She turned to leave in a huff.

“Why’re you so interested in that wolf brooch?” he asked before she could leave.

She hesitated. “It just...reminded me of someone.”

The boy was looking at the brooch and smiling. He had a strange look in his eyes, as if thinking of someone as well. “Yeah, me too.”

Sansa made to turn for the door again, but paused and looked back at the boy. A wolf was a curious thing this far down south. She wondered if he knew someone from the north. She doubted it though, people of his stature rarely leave their homes. She was about to open her mouth and ask him when he asked her, “Are you from the north?”

“I--no,” she sputtered. She was Alayne Stone, a bastard from the Fingers. She had never left her home, she wasn’t even supposed to know what a wolf looked like. “I just, I only really thought it was pretty.”

The boy looked up at her, studying her face for the first time. There was an inscrutable look on his face.

“It’s all right. I’m good at keeping secrets,” he said. He wiped his hands as if to shake her’s. “I’m Gendry.”

She paused. She should probably be wary that he assumed she had a secret, but oh, how nice it would be to have a friend again. _Trust no one_ , Petyr’s voice said in her mind. But her family’s faces flashed in her mind, and Shae’s and Margaery’s, and she felt herself feeling lonely all at once. Perhaps it was the brooch that made her take his hand and say, “My name is Alayne.”

A hand from behind gripped her shoulder, ever so slightly possessive.

“Come Alayne, we must be on our way,” Petyr said. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck.

She immediately let go of Gendry’s hand and turned to her guardian, a complacent smile on her face. “Yes, uncle.”

As they walked out of the smithy, Sansa looked behind her at Gendry, the odd boy with black hair and black hands. There was soot all over her hand despite his best efforts. It was too bad they weren’t staying longer, she thought. It would be nice to have a real friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Basically this came about when I was thinking about Sansa’s new status as a bastard and how it’s forced her to become more empathetic with the lower-class. And Gendry -- low born as he is -- is more distrustful of the high borns than ever before. So put two and two together, and voila! Instant best friend recipe.


End file.
